Maybe it was good that he was self-aware enough to know that about himself. Because Melanie still had a way of tugging at him without even trying. And he couldn’t let himself be tempted to take those risks he used to launch himself into without a second thought.
He now knew what it felt like to fail.
CHAPTER TWO
LOGAN HAD ONE of those deep sleeps where he woke up uncertain of where he was or what year he was in. But he felt better for it.
Breakfast in the resort dining room was hearty—bacon, eggs, waffles, hash browns... It was meant to fuel the people going out in canoes or hiking up the mountain to the falls. Logan wasn’t doing either of those, but he was glad for some food that would stick with him. As he ate, his mind was on the lake house that his father had owned.
Had it been weird for Melanie to vacation in his dad’s old haunt? He’d wanted to ask her more about that last night, but it hadn’t felt right. They’d hardly become reacquainted again. Besides, his behavior when they broke up didn’t leave him with any right to curiosity.
Logan pulled up in front of Melanie’s lake house, and he turned off the engine. He’d been here a few times as a kid. Dad seldom took him to his family home where his wife and other kids were. Mom would drop Logan off here at the lake house, and Logan and Dad would have an awkward day together where they didn’t talk too much—and whenever they did talk, Dad would tell him something about his other children.
Junior is really into trains right now. Do you like trains?
I’m not five.
Yeah, I know. I just... Yeah...
The day was warm already, and as he got out of the truck, a dragonfly buzzed past his head. He paused and looked around the front yard. The grass had been cut recently, but the flower beds were fallow. Those weeping willows on either side of the house trembled in the breeze. This was the kind of place that was timeless... That front door could open and he could see his dad standing in the doorway, hands pushed into chino pockets. Funny how, when he was young, he could be both excited to see the guy and filled with anger at the same time. He’d always been hoping for something that he never got—some level of acceptance that never happened.
Logan headed up the front path, knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer at first, but he could hear some rattling around inside. He knocked again, harder this time. The rattling stopped, and he heard footsteps, then the door was flung open and Melanie shot him a grin, nudging her hair out of her face with the back of her wrist. She was breathing fast. She wore a pair of gardening gloves, a skirt and a loose floral top that scooped down low enough to expose a diamond solitaire necklace.
“Hi,” he said, looking her over. “What’s going on?”
“There’s something up in the attic. It was scratching last night, and I want to see what I’m dealing with.”
“Like...raccoon scratching, or mouse scratching?”
“I’m thinking squirrel, but that’s just a guess.”
“Squirrels can be vicious if you corner them, you know,” he said.
“Hence the gloves,” she said, giving him a wry smile and holding her hands up.
“You want help with that?” he asked.
“If you’re offering,” she said. “I was just about to go up there and see if I could scare it out.”
“You’ll probably need to hire a pest control guy,” he said.
“Probably. But I want to know what I’m dealing with first,” she replied.
“All right. Do you have a broom or something?”
Melanie pulled one from behind the door. “Great minds think alike.”
Logan swung the door shut behind him and stole a look around. The old house smelled different now—sweeter, airier. There’d been some major renovations inside, too, from what he could see. New floors, a new kitchen. He followed her down the hallway that led to some bedrooms, where she stopped and looked up at the trapdoor in the ceiling. It had a piece of twine hanging down, and she reached up, not quite able to reach it. Logan stepped up behind her and grabbed the twine, but as he did, he was suddenly aware of how close she was—the soft fragrance of her hair, the warmth of her back. He gave the twine a pull and the door dropped down, then he stepped back.
He’d never been up in the attic—never even noticed the trapdoor, truth be told. He’d spent more time out on that rickety wharf listening to the lap of the water against the pilings and pretending to fish. It was something that let him turn his back on his dad for a couple of hours and neither of them felt guilty.
Melanie shot Logan a smile, vaulting him out of his memories, then she pulled down the folding stairs. She flicked a switch on the wall and the light came on upstairs.
“I’m glad that still works,” she murmured, and she took the first step.
“What am I here for?” he asked with a laugh. “I thought I was supposed to go up first and take the worst of the rabies.”
“Do you want to?” She turned to him with a deadpan expression.
“I’m the man here. I’ll never be able to live with myself if I went up there behind a woman.”
She laughed, then stepped back. “Feel free.”
He paused on the steps, listening. All was quiet except for the soft sound of Melanie’s breathing. The stairs squeaked under his feet as he climbed up, and when he got to the top, he looked around.
There was no sign of a critter that he could see—not immediately, at
